But he didn’t return my smile. “A lot of things could go wrong,” he said. “We could get caught. Or maybe the supervising agent will see through it, or the blood bags won’t go off, or—”
“You have scripted hundreds of intricate scenarios,” I said, “andnow, of all times, you decide to drop your ego?”
He grimaced. “I’m nervous.”
“You’re not the one getting shot.”
“Mina,” he groaned. “Don’t say that.”
The noise of the crowd increased as a black car pulled up at the end of the walkway. Min Sungho must have arrived, judging by the swarming security guards. I scanned the crowd, being sure to look in the direction of the supervising agent, then tracked Min Sungho with my gaze as he began to ascend the walkway. I slipped a hand into my jacket, as if to grab my gun, then let my shoulders droop and turned to Yejun.
“In a dramatic turn of events, I have realized I am too kind and gentle a soul to do it,” I said, keeping my expression forlorn even as my words were ridiculous. “I have no option but to betray the descendants. Whatever will you do, Yejun-ssi?”
Yejun only grimaced, unmoved by my melodramatics. I sighed and took a step closer. Soon, Min Sungho would be right in front of us.
“Go ahead,” I whispered to Yejun. “I’m ready.”
Yejun took a steadying breath, then withdrew his gun from the holster and pressed it to my stomach, shielding it with his coat. I braced for the impact of the blank, but he only let out an unsteady breath and rested his forehead against mine.
“Yejun?” I said. “Uh, you probably shouldn’t let the supervising agent see this.”
“Blanks are still dangerous, especially at this range,” Yejun said.
“That’s what the Kevlar is for,” I said, frowning.
“It could still hurt you.”
“I mean, maybe, but I wouldn’t die,” I said, shrugging.
It was the wrong thing to say. Yejun tensed up, then lowered his gun. “I’ve already hurt you so much,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“Yejun—”
“Mina, Ican’t,” he said, cupping my cheek with one hand. “Don’t you see? Ever since the very first time around, that’s always been the problem. I can’t hurt you, no matter how much I need to.”
His words didn’t sink in until he zipped up his jacket, hiding his holster, and I realized that he was actually going to refuse to shoot me.
The voices in the crowd rose as Min Sungho approached, flanked by security. He would walk by us soon, and the moment Yejun was supposed to kill me would pass. The supervising agent would seize us both, and I would never find Hana.
“Let’s go and get a head start, Mina,” Yejun said. “If they’re going to take us down, let’s at least make it hard for them.”
I shook my head, looking around frantically. “We can’t leave yet,” I said. “You have to do it, or else—”
My next words died in my throat.
A girl with a hood pulled over her face was pushing toward us.
The rest of the crowd faded into the background, all their voices blurring together into a drone, their faces melting away. The empty feeling of Hana’s absence had lifted. The girl in the crowd had dark hair that turned coppery in the sunlight, a silver watch on her wrist.
“Mina, I won’t do it,” Yejun said, starting to sound frustrated instead of sad. “I can’t.”
The girl drew to a stop five feet away from us. Her hair blew around her face, her hood hanging over her eyes. I wanted to run toward her, but I couldn’t move at all.
“Hana?” I whispered.
Then she squared her stance, raised a gun at me, and pulled the trigger.
The impact tossed me back into Yejun. Even through the Kevlar vest, it was like a solid punch to the ribs that forced all the air out of my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t think of anything except trying to draw in air. My side felt cold and wet, my whole body trembling with adrenaline. Had I actually been shot, or was it just the blood bag bursting? I was too numb to tell.
